by F. C. Reed
“Oh swell. Another afternoon of checkers.” Amalia groaned in protest as her grandmother slipped away. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon playing board games left a sour taste in her mouth.
Amalia’s grandmother returned with a small wooden box in her hand, its sides a worn and stained red.
Chapter Ten
Amalia’s grandmother beckoned her to stand. She opened the box to a burst of soft blue light that threw shadows across the walls behind them both. The light’s intensity faded as she pulled a jeweled amulet from the box and placed it around Amalia’s neck, fastening the clasp under her hair.
Amalia sucked in a sharp breath when the amulet rested against her chest. The fog in her mind’s eye cleared away, and she could see everything in high definition.
“Pretty cool, huh,” Amalia’s grandmother said.
Amalia looked down at the small blue orb. Colors swirled like a raging storm trapped inside the glass. A silver filament wound itself around the orb in an intricate pattern, holding it in its place. The filament dangled from a thin silver chain. Her fingertips tingled at the slightest of touches.
Amalia’s grandmother hugged her shoulders. “It’s a special amulet. Something I have wanted to give you for a long time now. It’s very important to the both of us.”
“Wow. This is beautiful,” Amalia said.
Amalia’s grandmother smiled. “This is a part of you that you don’t yet know. Perhaps that missing piece you are searching for. I’ve seen to and worked on and cultivated it for well over a decade. This, and you, result from that meticulous work of mine. It’s finally time to let the genie out of her bottle.”
Amalia looked up with a frown. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“I know,” Amalia’s grandmother said as she smiled. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. You will soon. The other thing I’d like to mention is that you should never take it off.”
“I have to wear it all the time? Even while showering?”
“Well, the rules aren’t that strict.”
“What rules? There are rules to wearing this thing?” Amalia asked.
“No, no,” Amalia’s grandmother corrected. “Maybe I’m using the wrong words. Just try to keep it close to you. Cherish it. Don’t let it out of your sight. My gift to you.”
Amalia breathed deep, blowing out the air in a long puff. “Nana, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing,” she said as she gathered her things. “I should be going. I have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll come by later and we can talk more.”
Amalia glanced at the orb’s brilliance, the light within pulsating in a soft wink. “Nana,” Amalia began, “I’ve been thinking about something lately.”
“What’s that?”
“Where do you live? I’ve never visited your house. Mom doesn’t have your address either. I asked her for it once. She said she didn’t know, but guessed it was in one of the darker corners of hell.”
“She would wish as much,” Amalia’s grandmother said, grinning. “The truth is, I stay close by.”
“And you don’t have visitors over?”
“No. I’m not the sort for visitors. Only occasionally I may have someone over,” she smiled halfheartedly.
“So can I be the special guest?” Amalia perked up.
Amalia’s grandmother nodded after some thought. “Yes. But not tonight.”
“It’s not like you drive. No car outside. I don’t understand how you get here so quickly. The physics make little sense.”
“Well, sometimes I take the bus. And sometimes I take a stroll when the weather permits.”
Amalia pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Fine. The truth is, I walk through alternate existences across folded space called a sourceway.”
Amalia smiled and shook her head. “That’s funny.”
“Oh, these old bones. They don’t always want to make the hike.”
“Old bones?” Amalia said with a chuckle. “You are in better shape than most people a third of your age. You look like you can squat 300 pounds, easy.”
Amalia’s grandmother studied her a moment before responding. “Observant. A lot like someone I know,” she said. A slight smile spread across her face. “I’ll come by for lunch tomorrow and we’ll have a proper talk.”
Amalia nodded. “Okay, I guess. But for the record, I realize that you answered none of my questions.” She took a seat on the couch again and stared into the blue marble-like swirling patterns inside the amulet, small pinpricks registering at the tips of her fingers. She wondered what could explain the amulet and the way it behaved. The amulet surged, and as she thought about it, her mind calmed and her anxiety grew less intense. For the first time in a long time, she felt confident, but did not understand about what.
So engrossed, she did not notice when her grandmother slipped out the front door.
Chapter Eleven
It was late, and Amalia pushed herself away from her desk, stretched, and let out a deep yawn. And as she reengaged her biology text, a tingling vibration drummed rapidly against her chest. She seized at her shirt, not accustomed to the subtle sensation of movement from the necklace. To her curiosity, the amulet buzzed and emanated a tiny, almost imperceptible, amount of heat. She took it out of her shirt and examined it.
The blue storm captured inside raged on. For a moment she stared at it, not knowing what to make of the display of colors and warm light. Mesmerized by the beauty and warmth that crept into her fingers, she would like to have stared at it the rest of the evening.
Amalia pulled the orb closer to her face, watching the cloud-like formations inside the locket. The anomalous shapes looked like they were moving, but she wasn’t sure, instead assuming it was a trick of the light. She smoothed the surface over with her thumb, and within the next several heartbeats, a pressure squeezed at her chest. She gasped at the sensation due in part to her surprise.
For a moment, weightlessness overtook her senses, and she flailed from the sensation of being lifted into the air. A dread crept up inside of her and she held her eyes shut, thinking she may have a panic attack.
Moments later, the pressure around her chest eased itself back to normal. She opened her eyes and again the sights and sounds nearly brought her to her knees.
A vast and gleaming city illuminated the dark of night. Purple hued clouds hung overhead, and the orangish white ball of light from what must have been a sun, sank in indistinguishable increments, well on its way to set beyond the horizon.
Another quick glance around and she realized that she stood on what looked like a circular concrete platform connected to a long walkway that extended into a structure. She looked down and gasped, scrambling away. Her toes were inches from the edge of the platform. Beneath the platform itself, there appeared to be no support beams, no bridge, and no ground. Speckles of light from distant buildings and houses gave her a sign of how high up she was.
Amalia backed farther away from the edge, confused. Did she fall asleep while studying? No, she remembered being wide awake, and toying with the necklace. She snatched it out of her shirt and looked over its glassy surface.
The sounds of clanging metal brought her attention towards the walkway. She turned and met, to her horror, several men in armored uniforms and half-helmets. Eyes glowed red in the twilight. The contingent of oddly-dressed men and women jogged in formation toward her. Amalia stood up cautiously, keeping in mind that backing away was not an option.
The group formed a line in front of her across the walkway as if to block it. Soldiers? Swords hung from their waists and small circles of grayish-blue metal adorned their wrists. The tiny round shields appeared too small to be of any use. Their armor appeared to be black leather and metal segments covered the leather in various places at the thighs and chest and on their arms.
Amalia felt her mouth drop open. “I must be dreaming again,” she whispered.
The line of men parted in front
of her to reveal a tall woman dressed in a silver armor. It gleamed in the darkness where stray beams of light played on the curved surfaces. Short metallic wings protruded from her back, reaching just beyond her shoulders. She also held a long silver spear whose blade extended a foot above her head. The intricate design of the serrated edge created a sense of aggression and malice. The woman walked with confidence and held her head high.
“Who are you?” the woman said. Her voice sounded robotic and amplified by the helmet, given the volume. “This is a restricted area and you do not have clearance to be on this level.”
Amalia stared at her, not sure if she should say anything.
“How did you get up here?” The woman took a step closer and removed her helmet, cradling it under her arm.
Her beauty struck Amalia right away, as if that caliber of beauty did not - should not - exist. A perfectly angled face, wide almond-shaped eyes, and full pink lips hid underneath the helmet. Around her head fell long straight blond hair, and her eyes were the deep amber of golden honey. She was breathtaking, and would have given anyone who looked on her pause.
“I will not ask again. Who are you and how did you get here?” Now her voice held a smooth sleekness and came out in more of a purr without the muffled acoustics of the helmet.
Amalia still said nothing.
The woman studied her for a moment with narrowed eyes. “You do not appear to be an agent of the Legion or part of the revolution, but I do not fool easily.” She turned away. “Take her to holding,” she said to the awaiting men. “She is to be charged with trespassing with an intent to commit espionage.”
The soldiers grabbed Amalia by her arms and led her down the walkway toward the building. She did not resist, nor did she see the point in doing so. As she passed the woman who appeared to be in charge, she caught sight of the two pipes that jutted out of a small backpack. The edges of the pipes glowed a sharp blue and emanated heat. Not much heat, but enough to notice.
“I’m definitely dreaming,” she muttered. “Steampunk jetpacks and floating sidewalks. This would be some nerd’s paradise.”
Amalia found herself in a small, unimpressive room without decoration. Flashing lights pierced the darkness in small clusters. Instrument panels covered parts of the walls but held no discernible purpose. Screens positioned along the walls held information that she could only guess at.
She sat in the room quietly, still wondering if she was dreaming. The colors were too vivid. The sounds were too sharp. Her mind seemed too clear and focused. That made her doubt. She shivered in the windowless but well-lit room, wishing she could dream she was wearing a sweater. A glass of water sat on the table in front of her. She hadn’t so much as even touched it.
A low rumble of voices pushed their way under the door and she heard the clanking of metal in tandem with footfalls on the stone floor. Amalia held her breath as the lock on the door clunked over with a metallic echo. She raised partway from her chair in case she felt the need to hurl it at whoever was about to come through the door.
The door swung open and an unnaturally tall and armored figure stepped inside, broad shoulders filling the doorway. The helmeted figure stared at her for a long moment. A handle peeked over the figure’s shoulder and a red half cloak swayed in the passing breeze. The figure’s armor appeared silver with gold inlaid designs, and shone in the light, despite the many dents and scratches. Something one would expect a knight of the round table to wear.
The figure’s eyes hardened as a low mechanized voice muttered, “Come with me.”
Amalia hesitated, but soon fell behind the figure as it turned to leave the room. She hesitated again upon seeing the giant red sword strapped across the figure’s back, its surface engraved with alien symbols. Amalia stopped in her tracks at the sight of it.
“There is nothing to fear,” the figure said without turning. Something familiar lingered in the voice, tone, and inflection, but the helmet muffled the voice and it proved difficult for Amalia to place.
“That settles it,” Amalia muttered. “I am definitely dreaming. Half-giants, superhero capes, and this space knight is wearing a freaking red buster sword. Eat your heart out, Cloud Strife.”
Amalia jogged until she caught up, but kept a small span of distance between them. “Am I a prisoner?” she asked.
“Not even in the slightest,” the escort said. “You are an honored guest.”
“You sure do have a funny way of showing it,” Amalia said.
The occasional leather armored soldier snapped to attention as they passed by, largely unnoticed and with no acknowledgement from Amalia’s escort.
As Amalia followed, she could not help but let her eyes wander. Bustling conversation and laughter mingling with the metallic clanking of forks and spoons on plates spilled out of an enormous hall off to the left. A hint of bread and what also reminded her of barbecue hung in the air.
They ascended a set of metal stairs into another hallway. There were few doors and even fewer people. The silence irked her, given that a lively gathering was just below. A pair of guards stood at attention on either side of the door at the end of the hall, dressed also in the black leather armor. One of them opened the door to allow Amalia and her escort to pass.
The room inside resembled a conference hall, with multicolored banners hanging the length of the walls in strategic locations. A map of sorts covered a large wooden table in the center of the room. At the other side of the map-table, an older man dressed in a green tunic and black leather pants stood with his back to the door, studying a painting on the wall.
“Primus, sir,” the escort spoke into the room.
The older gentleman turned on his heel, a pleasant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “So this is she,” he said. His eyes sparkled as if he reacquainted himself with an old friend. “Welcome,” he motioned with outstretched arms as he made his way around the table. He grinned so broadly and moved with such purpose that Amalia thought he would hug her.
It wasn’t until he moved closer that she realized just how short the man really was, especially compared to whoever escorted her. Still, she took a step back.
The primus stopped and smiled again, sensing her discomfort. “I take it you’ve told her nothing of who I am.”
The escort confirmed with a gesture of the head.
Directing his attention back to Amalia, the primus held out his hand. “Don’t be afraid, child. Come and sit with me.”
“What do you want?” Amalia said with a distrustful edge in her voice.
“My name is Valister Argos,” he said as he turned to the table and raised a hand over it. “I am the Sapphire Emperor, fourteenth in the Argos Torr dynasty, and Primus Rexx. This realm, Therios Kaval, is my charge. Its continued existence is my responsibility as a member of the Council of Ancients.”
“None of that means anything to me,” she said, the distrustful edge in her voice growing. “So far, I think you’re crazy, or I’m crazy to believe this dream is real.”
Before his hand stretched a huge shimmering blue and green hologram of the city and its borders, activated by his motions over it. The buildings and bridges were minuscule, but clear on the table. Amalia glanced over the model sized hologram of a city and nearly choked.
She sputtered something unintelligible, her eyes wide in recognition as she scanned and then re-scanned the holographic layout.
“You recognize it then?” the primus said. “I thought you might. This is the Reach.”
Although she said nothing at first, Amalia definitely recognized it. A fixture in her dreams. Always the distant city in the background. The one with the tall spire crafted from blue metal. “Please tell me I’m dreaming.”
“I would if you were,” the primus returned.
Finally, she could attach a name to the mysterious place. She pointed at the corners of the holographic map. They stood higher than the walls between them, the tops a flared arrangement of reinforced nests. “What are these?”
“Defensive positions,” the primus replied as he gestured at the eight spires surrounding the city. Their positions and the gates that spanned them gave the city’s holographic outline an octagonal shape. “These are forward and rear posts. The gates between them are manned by our most stalwart of protectors. They are our last line of defense. Beyond this and extending out across the horizons, there are also defensive watchgates which stand ready as the first lines of defense.”
Amalia turned her gaze on the primus. There was a sense of recognition with the setup and layout of the city, the outer perimeter, and the connections between the guard posts, although she had no recollection of seeing any of it before now in its entirety. She saw snippets and pieces in her dreams, which she now recognized as walls and towers and gates. Her uneasiness intensified over the recent discoveries.
“We have been watching you for a long time, Artemisia,” the primus said.
“Okay, one, that’s just creepy coming from an old man. Two, first lines of defense from what? And three, who is Artemisia?”
“I can answer most easily the last question. Artemisia,” he said with a smile, “is you.”
“I think you’ve made some mistake. My name is Amalia.” She frowned as the primus shook his head slightly.
“Your accidental, but not so accidental appearance here,” the primus continued, “with no prior knowledge of this realm’s existence is a testament to your powerful connection with the legacy of the Red Lion, the Munara Tai, and the Crimson Bloodguard. It is precisely those connections which make you very, very special.”
Amalia frowned at that. Vigorously shaking her head, she tried to cast aside her confusion and disbelief.
The primus pointed at the map. “We are at war, Artemisia. We have been for generations. This realm, Therios Kaval, is one of many that serves as a protective barrier to the Aedan Harkhemenes, which is the name for the fifth plane of existence. Harkhemenes is the single most important plane of existence. Earth exists there. If we do not protect Harkhemenes, the dark armies will swallow it whole, raze the earth, and build another plane of existence on its ashes, with an intent on moving to the next plane of existence until they’re all consumed.”